They were making bombs.
The synthesis of acetone peroxide carried with it so much risk that Emma was surprised the guerrillas would attempt it. The substance was volatile and unstable. When the two liquids were mixed, they could create enough force to blow off fingers. Add a blasting cap, and one could create a decent-size bomb.
Problem was, there was no telling when the mixture would explode. The only way to be safe was to cool the liquid to low temperatures. Acetone peroxide achieved a level of stability when cold. Emma couldn’t imagine where they’d cool the mixture. They would need a refrigerator or freezer, because the jungle environment would warm it far too fast.
She once again walked the length of the gazebo, this time looking for anything that could contain ice or dry ice. Nothing.
Perhaps they’re storing it farther away for safety in case it blows, Emma thought. She widened her search area. She found two coolers twenty-five yards into the trees. She knelt down and very gently removed the lid. There, nestled in a glass container labeled AP, sat the dried granules of acetone peroxide. Ice filled the remaining space. She opened the second cooler. This one was stacked with silver metal plates just like the ones she’d watched the guerrillas use to mine the road back at the airstrip. They, too, were covered with ice. Several rolls of duct tape lay all about.
An idea bloomed in Emma’s mind: AP explodes when jarred or pressed. She could use the AP to create her own pressure-sensitive mine. If she could bury it outside the hut’s entrance, the first person who stepped on it would be blown up. Her biggest challenge would be to add only the amount of AP needed to affect the individual stepping on the mine. She didn’t want it to destroy the hut, and Sumner and the soldier, with it. The other question was, How would she ensure that Sumner or the wounded soldier didn’t step on the mine first?
Emma shook off her indecision. It was the only idea she’d had so far. She’d solve these problems when she came to them. She got to work creating her mine. She took the AP out of the cooler, being careful not to jar the glass. She sprinkled it over a flat metal disk. Then, very slowly, she lowered a second disk over the first. She was impressed that the guerrillas thought to cool the metal disks as well. When held together with the tape, they would help keep the AP stable for a bit longer. She bound the ends of the disks together.
She made a second mine as quickly as possible. The outside temperature was rising steadily. When the disks warmed to above ten degrees Celsius, the AP would once again become unstable.
Emma carried her two mines back down the path. She moved with as much grace as she could muster so as not to jar them. She reached the spot outside the hut where she’d hidden the rifles and lowered the mines to the ground.
The situation at the hut seemed to have taken a turn for the worse since White had arrived. He paced back and forth in front of Sumner in agitation. Sumner watched White with his characteristic lack of emotion. White crouched down and spat directly into Sumner’s face. Sumner’s eyes remained blank. He gazed at White’s face, only inches from his own, with a level stare.
“Who the hell are you?” Sumner’s voice floated to Emma. She strained to hear White’s response.
“I’m your worst enemy, you just don’t know me,” White said. “Caldridge owes me the formula, and with your help, I’m going to make sure she delivers.”
Sumner frowned. Emma could see him trying to make sense of what White said. Before he could say anything, White backhanded him, hitting him in the face. Sumner pitched to the side but managed to catch himself before he fell on the wounded soldier. Emma felt her anger begin to bubble under the surface. She reached up and fingered the cross hanging around her neck. Worried the beads with her fingers. She calmed almost immediately. She took a deep breath.
Focus, she thought. The soldier leaning against Sumner looked unconscious, but for a second she thought she saw a flash of awareness in his body language. He was not as bad off as he wanted everyone to believe. She was right to have brought him a weapon.
It took an effort for Emma to divert her attention from the unfolding scene. She analyzed the dirt around the hut, trying to get a handle on the most likely traffic pattern. The grass was beaten to dust in a line outside the door that curved to the left. Twenty feet away sat a large, flat boulder. The path curved around it and continued down toward the ocean. Halfway down the trail, Emma saw the glow of a cigarette tip moving toward the beach. The second bodyguard was headed toward the water’s edge.
Emma lifted both disks off the ground, took a deep breath, and carried them to the path, taking care to stay out of direct line of sight from the hut. She placed the disks back on the ground before clawing at the dirt. She was sweating and in a state of near panic. The sun was rising and along with it came the heat. The AP would soon be too warm to handle.
While she worked, she heard White talking to Smoking Man, outlining a plan.
“Burning the plants set us back at least six weeks. It will take that long for her to grow new ones that can be infused with the chromosomes we need.”
She finished burying the first disk. She turned to the second. Her panic was taking over now. She didn’t want to remain out in the open any longer. The second bodyguard could return at any time. White’s Range Rover was parked next to the line in the dirt. She maneuvered the second disk through the open passenger-side window and lowered it onto the seat. The minute she let go of the mine she hightailed it back toward her hiding spot. Once in the trees, she used the scope on the rifle to look down the path. The second bodyguard was strolling toward the hut, still pulling on the cigarette in his mouth. Emma held her breath as he approached the buried mine. He walked past it, missing it by only a few inches before heading into the hut.
“Get started on him,” she heard White say. He waved at the bodyguard. “Go get her. She needs to watch.” Smoking Man repeated the order in Spanish. The guard loped off, once again missing the mine by inches.
Emma’s panic spiked even higher. The guard would discover that she was gone and raise the alarm. Whatever she was going to do, she’d better do it now.
The remaining bodyguard grabbed Sumner by the shirt. The wounded soldier rolled off him onto the hut’s dirt floor. The bodyguard dragged Sumner out of the hut straight toward the mine.
Oh, no, Emma thought. She targeted the bodyguard, preparing to shoot him in order to stop him before he dragged Sumner right over the mine. Six feet from the spot he veered off and headed to the flat boulder ten feet farther away. Emma lowered her gun.
Smoking Man snapped out an order in Spanish. Sumner said nothing, but Emma could see that he had gritted his teeth to prepare himself. For what, Emma couldn’t tell. She didn’t know what was going on, but Smoking Man, his second bodyguard, and White all stood around with an expectant air, so whatever they were preparing to do, it wasn’t going to be good. Her fingers returned to worrying the rosary stones.
There was a yell from the bodyguard who had been ordered to get her.
“He saying she’s escaped,” Smoking Man said.
White’s eyes bugged. “What?” Emma watched his face grow red with his rage. “Are you kidding me?”
The bodyguard ran up to Smoking Man, babbling in Spanish.
“She’s gone,” Smoking Man said.
White rounded on him. “Find her. Now. Tell him to get the pilot to use the helicopter to search from above.”
Smoking Man spoke in rapid Spanish. The second guard nodded and ran back down the path.
He didn’t come close to the buried mine.
White rubbed at his eyes with his beefy hands. For a brief moment, Emma relished watching him panic.
“She can’t be far,” White said.
Smoking Man pulled a cigarette out of a pack and lit it. He stared at White, a speculative look in his eyes.
“Did you take her away? Have your soldiers bring her to the buyers while we were up here?”
White looked indignant. “Why would I do that?”
“To k
eep the money for yourself. Cut me out of the deal.”
White drew himself up. “I wouldn’t cut you out. Besides, where would I hide her while I negotiated with the buyers? You’re the one with the network down here, not me. You’d find her in a heartbeat.”
Smoking Man just pulled on the cigarette, watching White with his hard, dead eyes.
“You want to see what we do to those who betray us?” He jutted his chin at Sumner, still held against the boulder. “Continue.”
The bodyguard stubbed out his own cigarette. He untied Sumner’s hands, grabbed Sumner’s right arm, and yanked it flat across the boulder, holding it in place. He dropped his weapon on the ground. He pulled a machete out of a holder attached to his belt. Smoking Man and White watched with anticipation for the bodyguard’s next move. He raised the machete high.
Emma realized in that instant what he intended to do. She let go of the rosary, flattened again onto her stomach, pulled the rifle into position, flicked it into automatic mode, placed the crosshairs on the spot where she’d buried the mine, and started firing. Bullets hammered into the ground above the device.
It exploded.
The force of the blast knocked both White and the bodyguard backward. The machete flew out of the bodyguard’s hand. White landed hard, but regained his feet and ran behind the hut. The bodyguard rolled to his stomach and crawled into the trees, dragging a bloody leg.
Emma wasted no time in sighting her second target, Smoking Man. She flicked the gun back to semiautomatic. She’d wasted only six seconds between blowing the mine and turning to her next shot, but they were enough to save Smoking Man. He dove downward. Emma’s single shot flew harmlessly over him, hitting the trunk of a tree growing thirty yards behind him. In a flash Smoking Man was on his feet. He dove behind the hut. Emma heard the ominous sound of helicopter rotors thumping in the dawn light, growing louder. The pilot was beginning his search for her.
At the sound of the shots, and the minute the bodyguard fell, Sumner was up and running toward the hut. Emma looked for White. She saw the driver’s-side door of the Range Rover open. Sunlight reflected off the moving window. White’s head and shoulders appeared above the metal door. Emma watched as he bent to put a key in the ignition. The Range Rover’s engine roared to life. The vehicle’s wheels spun on the dirt, kicking up a huge cloud of dust as White threw it in gear. He drove past the hut, headed away. The car bounced over the ruts in the dirt trail. Emma could hear the suspension squeak in protest. The car fell into yet another rut and the right side tilted at an angle.
The car exploded. Emma watched it burn with a strange mixture of elation and disgust. She dragged her attention away. She didn’t want to let herself feel anything over White’s death. She needed to keep her emotions in check until she got herself to safety.
Emma heard shouting from the soldiers at the boat. She couldn’t see them, but she knew they were coming. Added to the sound of the soldier’s yelling came the ever-increasing noise of the approaching helicopter.
54
EMMA HAULED THE REMAINING TWO RIFLES OVER HER SHOULDER and headed for the hut to deliver them to Sumner and the wounded soldier. Sumner was there, bending over the soldier, when gunfire exploded through the hut’s back wall. The bullets punched through the wood, creating a dotted line behind Sumner’s head. He hit the deck, pulling the seated soldier flat. Emma threw herself down. The bullets winged over her head.
Sumner wrapped his arms under the soldier’s to drag him across the hut’s dirt floor. He kept low, crawling on one knee as he dragged. His crouch saved him. Emma watched as bullets continued to shatter the wood, this time even lower. Either Smoking Man or the injured bodyguard was behind the hut, shooting directly into it in an attempt to kill anyone left inside. Emma needed to get around the structure to see who it was.
The helicopter appeared overhead. Emma looked up and saw the cracked windshield.
“Sumner, stay where you are!” she screamed over the din. Sumner reached the hut’s entrance but stopped. The bullet holes appeared behind him. The helicopter hovered above him. Emma recognized the pilot and Smoking Man’s second bodyguard. The guard held an automatic rifle in his right hand. He yelled something at the pilot, and the helo swung around and began descending. While it did, the guerrilla began firing down, over the hut’s roof. Smoking Man continued to punch holes into the back of the hut, each set lower than the last, while the hovering helicopter rained fire at the hut’s entrance. Sumner and the soldier were caught in the middle.
Emma pulled her own weapon. Her angle was all wrong, it was unlikely that she’d hit the man hovering over Sumner. She fired anyway. She targeted the pilot’s window. Her first shot hit the helicopter’s body and pinged off harmlessly. The second cracked through the glass. She heard a yell and the helicopter reversed course, shooting up and away from the hut.
Emma grabbed the rifles and ran to the hut. Once she cleared the trees, she looked to her right. She could see the soldiers pulling the dinghy onto the beach. The helicopter spun around and turned back to face her. She continued running to the hut, the rifles banging on her shoulder.
MIGUEL REMAINED IN A HAZE of pain. He felt Sumner hauling him across the hut’s floor. He could see the bullets flying through the back wall, but he couldn’t bring himself to help Sumner by taking over and crawling on his own. It was as if his legs belonged to someone else, they didn’t move at his command.
The rising sun hit his eyes when his head was two feet from the hut’s entrance. Sumner was dragging him along on his back, so he got a wonderful view of the helicopter hovering over the hut and the man inside preparing to blow them away. Miguel was too weak even to yell a warning, but he thought he heard someone scream at Sumner to stay put. Sumner reversed direction and shoved Miguel back inside the hut.
Seconds later, Miguel saw the helicopter veer off. He took a look outside to see what had scared it away. He was astonished to see a wild woman running toward him. Her skin was caked with dried mud and her hair hung past her shoulders in dreadlocklike clumps. She grimaced, revealing white teeth that glowed against her blackened face. She wore a dirty gray T-shirt torn at the neck. She was thin and tall, and moved in long, fluid strides. While she did, she removed a gun off her shoulder and catapulted it into the air like a spear. Sumner reached up and caught it in one hand. She threw another that sailed over them. It landed on the hut’s floor and skittered across to the far wall. She disappeared around the corner.
Miguel wasn’t leaving that weapon behind. “Sumner, let go of me. I need that rifle,” he said.
EMMA CRAWLED ON HER ELBOWS and knees, her weapon held in her hands, around the hut. She stopped at the corner and peered around it. Smoking Man was busy reloading. He stood up to deliver another volley. Before he could, the hut’s wall coughed up splinters of wood as someone from inside shot through it. Two of the bullets hit Smoking Man. One in his thigh, the other in his arm. He staggered away.
Emma was up in a flash and ran back around to the hut’s entrance. The wounded soldier was conscious and aimed a rifle at the back wall. He’d shot Smoking Man. Recognition flashed across his face when he saw her.
“You’re Ms. Caldridge,” he said.
Emma didn’t bother to ask him how he knew her name. Sumner was checking the back of the hut. He swung around at the soldier’s voice. Some strong emotion rippled across his face at the sight of her. She directed her attention to the soldier.
“We’ve got to move. The helicopter is still out there as well as a small platoon of soldiers.”
“How many?” Sumner moved to stand behind the open door to survey the area.
“Four. One is a young boy. Do your best not to kill him. He helped me escape.”
“Where are they?”
“Near the beach. There’s a cabin cruiser floating about fifty yards out in the water. If we can get to it, we can use it to get away.”
Sumner hauled the wounded soldier upright. “Come on, Miguel. We’re going on a cruise.”
The soldier turned sheet white for a moment, as if the act of standing made all the blood in his body head south. He wrapped one arm around Sumner’s shoulders.
“The rifle. I’m not leaving without it,” he said.
Emma slung the strap over Miguel’s other shoulder. “I’ll cover you both.”
Sumner grabbed Emma by the shirt and pulled her toward him. He kissed her, openmouthed and urgent. He broke away to look at her.
“In case we don’t make it,” he said to her.
All Emma could think to do was nod.
Sumner hitched Miguel higher on his shoulder. “On three!” he said, and began to count.
They burst out of the hut. The sun was up and the heat rising. It reflected off the pipeline’s metal and bounced off the oil-slicked grass, making the area stink even more than before. Sumner started a slow jog. He pulled on Miguel, who managed to move his feet only every few steps, forcing Sumner to half drag him along. Emma scanned the field, looking for the soldiers. They were at the base of the hill, next to the pipeline, moving in a crouch formation toward the hut.
The helicopter was back. It swooped over them. The shadow it cast covered Emma, blocking out the sun. She peppered it with bullets. It shot upward again and spun in a circle.
She ran sideways down the hill in order to watch the approaching soldiers. She fired a random shot in their direction. They scattered and ran for cover. Emma continued behind Sumner and Miguel. They passed the spot where she’d hidden in the trees. The box of dynamite was still there. Emma diverted sideways to snatch the box off the ground. She ripped it open while she continued moving. The helicopter flew somewhere to her right. She heard the sound of a second growing louder. If there were two, then they were doomed. She did her best to ignore it and focus on the job at hand.
The soldiers were huddled under the pipeline. They hid behind the narrow tripod legs, waiting for their chance. Sumner had dragged Miguel to the far left, using the trees as cover. The trees might help with the helicopter, but Emma expected the soldiers to fire on the men as they drew parallel. Plus, a huge German shepherd shot out of the wooded area, running full tilt at Sumner. Emma didn’t know if it was going to attack, but whatever it was going to do, Sumner was going to have to deal with it. She didn’t have the time to put it down.
Running from the Devil ec-1 Page 26
